Then the tide closed over his head again, and a chilling sense of horror came upon him; but once more the dim shades of the water gave place to the light of day, and he managed to get partially free, and again to make desperate strokes to keep himself on the surface.
But he felt that his strength was going, and that, unless help came quickly, there was to be the end.
A shout away on the left sent a momentary accession of strength through him, and he fought desperately, but in vain, for again his arm was pinioned, and the water rolled over his head just as he felt a sharp jerk, and, half-insensible, he was drawn up to the stern of a boat.
What happened during the next few minutes was a blank. Then Chris found himself being lifted up the rough granite steps on to the pier, amidst the cheering of a crowd; and in a hoarse voice he gasped,—
“The lady; is she safe?”
“All right, Mr Lisle, sir,” cried one of the men. “She’s all square.”
Then a strange voice close to his ear said hastily,—
“Yes; all right. You go.”
He did not realise what it meant for a few moments, but as he was struggling to his feet, to stand, weak and dripping, in the midst of a pool of water, the same voice said,—
“That’s right, my lad. Carry her up to my hotel.”